


And What If I Said No?

by MrsSarabiHolmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsSarabiHolmes/pseuds/MrsSarabiHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of series 3. Jim Moriarty comes back with the ultimate question: Do you want to marry me? He obviously has a dark plan, but can Sherlock beat him this time around with no casualties? Jim's music has started to play and Sherlock must dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small chapter, I know, but the others will be longer, I promise. I hope you like. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the fan fiction itself, the idea, and the way I portray these wonderful characters.

The same fucking old town. 

 

It just never changed, despite what everyone claimed. 

 

Not that Jim cared about what ordinary people had to say, on the contrary - even if they were adorable. He preferred them fighting or their blood splattered on the wall. 

 

Hmf, this wasn't his main concern now. 

 

He had to play and destroy Sherlock. But way more than before... from the inside. Break him, tear him apart so the residues of him crunch under Jim's foot. Yes...

 

And he knew just how to do that.

 

That fool had a soft, humane side. What a weak mistake.

 

Moriarty had learned to never keep one - and that was his strength. He'd prove Sherlock how inferior he really was...

 

How nothing worthy would and could ever come out of him again. 

 

Jim sighed, terribly bored, and released the pole of the London's bus he was on, dropping fancifully and gracefully on his feet like a cat. He didn't even have to watch where he fell nor was going - he knew exactly where. 

 

He had the perfect plan to remedy to Sherlock - who'd probably end up being a disappointment, much like everyone else.

 

Even though it was fun. But it was time to finish it. Show him who was best. Who was the master. The real victor and the most intelligent. 

 

Jim Moriarty.

 

He had made quite the noticeable entrance: he loved to be drama queen. Like he said, his changeability was his only weakness.

 

'Dragon's mouth. Aldgate - right side. 15 minutes. Miss me?

 

I missed you.

\- JM. xx'

 

He pressed 'send' on his iPhone and smirked. Now walking towards the closest tube station with his hands in his black coat pockets, Moriarty had a devious pleasure imagining all the wicked scene to come, somewhat (as much as he could be) looking forward it. 

 

_It's been a while, Sherlock..._


	2. The Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer. Hope you like. Enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: Same as chapter 1.

Sherlock looked up from his microscope and grabbed his cellphone that had been lying on the table. Since Moriarty’s big ‘Miss me?’ entrance (or act II, if he could say), the consulting detective had been looking for any signs, no matter how small, of the Napoleon of crime. There it was, staring straight at him – well, it was mostly him staring at it, frowning.

'Dragon's mouth. Aldgate - right side. 15 minutes. Miss me?

 I missed you.

\- JM. xx'

His heart beat increased and his breathing became shallow. _Finally_. Luckily, John was out to run some errands for the day, so Sherlock didn’t have to lie his way through to Moriarty. He jumped up and put on his long, blue coat along with his scarf. Another meaningful encounter. However, he’d have to play it carefully as with Moriarty it never was easy. If they both could come back from the dead, what had the other in store for him now?

Sherlock was slightly relieved John wasn’t here at the moment for he wouldn’t have to look out after him, nor protect him in case something ever happened. And something _would_ happen with Moriarty, that was for sure.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock put his hands into his coat pockets and waited for the consulting criminal to arrive. He didn’t have to wait for long.

‘Miss me, Sherlock?’

‘Thrice the same chorus; you’re becoming _ordinary_.’

Jim brought a hand up to his heart and faked being hurt, grimacing. ‘Ow, don’t hurt me so! I know you missed me.’

‘Yes, I did… miss getting you properly killed.’

Jim smirked and shook a finger at Sherlock, clucking his tongue. ‘I like it. You’re so wild today; is this the new you? After such a _fall_ ,I mean.’

Except for Irene Adler, Jim was the only person Sherlock couldn’t read. Thus, he couldn’t help feeling slightly helpless every time he faced him – but never would he admit it. For now, he just had to distract the man and see what new game he was playing. Because there had to be one.

His observations were that Jim’s plan probably involved threatening the safety of all the people in the Tube. Otherwise, why would he have told him to be here, in a crowded place? He was surely counting on the fact that Sherlock would sacrifice himself to save them, even if in a twisted way. Wouldn’t that just be a treat for Jim?

‘What is your game?’ Sherlock asked seriously.

Jim simply shrugged and grinned. ‘Do you want to marry me?’

All the blood drained from Sherlock’s face. He could feel his breathing stop and his heart miss a beat. He knew he had heard right, but what was that for a game? Sherlock shook his head, frowning. Before he could speak again, the consulting detective had to gulp and clear his throat.

‘Marry you?’

‘Of course. You’re a little daft, aren’t you?’ Jim asked in a soft voice. ‘We’re so alike you and I, marriage is the next step, you know. For ordinary people.’

Sherlock clenched his fists and jaw. ‘We aren’t ordinary.’

‘And that’s exactly where the fun begins…’ the other whispered, a dark sparkle in his eyes.

Jim straightened up and grinned as though nothing had ever happened. Sherlock was aware that if he chose to refuse the proposal, a disaster would ensue.

‘And what if I said no?’ he asked.

The consulting criminal just sighed and tilted his head to the side, observing him for a while. ‘You’d be boring. Oh! And all the people here will die, along with us. I won’t tell you all of my plan, but John Watson is in it too. If you say no, they die, we die, and he dies too.’

Jim’s voice was dripping venom and his gaze was drilling into Sherlock’s. Upon hearing John Watson’s name and part of Jim’s infernal plan, Sherlock stiffened and held his breath.

‘Ah, now I’ve got your attention. I’ll reiterate my question: Do you want to marry me?’

Sherlock quickly went into his mind palace, exploring all the possibilities, consequences and solutions. Opening doors and closing others, he figured out the best way to tackle this huge problem. Shaking lightly and forcing his voice to be even, he uttered the single word that would dreadfully change all of his life and future:

‘Yes.’


	3. His Undoing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I am extremely sorry for the long overdue chapter, but I got sick and had to go to the hospital for months, etc. But now I'm back and ready to dive into this story again! ^.^ I am so happy and flattered by the love it's getting from you all, dear readers! Thank you :). 
> 
> Disclaimer: As in chapter 1.

‘Perfect. I knew you’d come to your senses,’ said Jim, with a smile and a dark sparkle in his eyes. He spun on his heel, hands in his pockets, ready to leave. ‘Oh, and don’t think you can escape me after the wedding. I know you wouldn’t _dream_ of it. Tomorrow at Bale’s, 10:30 AM. Private ceremony. Ciaoooo~!’

 

Jim glanced over his shoulder and shot him a malicious smile before walking away nonchalantly. Sherlock stayed frozen on the spot, staring at the devilish person disappearing into the crowd. The consulting detective’s mind reeled as he explored the many different possibilities. So he’d marry Moriarty tomorrow. Not that he believed in marriage, unlike John, always having found it useless as it involved several restrictions of one’s life and _sentiment_. Knowing his archnemesis, there would be more to it than it appeared. Sherlock’s heartbeat increased and he clenched his fists. He couldn’t lie: he was both excited and apprehensive of Moriarty’s return. It implied complications, but a whole new game on another level too. Would they live together like common couples? That was probably what the consulting criminal meant by the forbidden escape. Now this was a major problem… Sherlock already dreaded the fights and quarrels. He gulped and sighed. Moriarty had planned his first move carefully – Sherlock had indeed sacrificed everything to save John Watson and people he didn’t even know like the criminal had expected. It irritated the consulting detective to the highest point. Sherlock gritted his teeth at the thought and whirled around, his coat slapping his calves. And to say he had given in… It left a sour taste in his mouth.

 

_Despicable_.

 

However, he shouldn’t focus on his own emotions; he had a wedding to prepare for. As for John, Sherlock would have to find a way to shake him off.

 

That was the hardest part.

  
Yet.

If the consulting detective and the consulting criminal when together resulted in faking their own deaths, Sherlock didn’t want to know what would living together be like.

 

_A disaster_ , he thought grimly. _And quite the experience too_.

 

As much as he was looking forward to it in the only way he could, Sherlock somehow knew it would go wrong. Oh, so wrong!

 

* * * 

Sherlock stepped into his flat, stiff as a stick. He knew what he had to do: lie to his best friend and flatmate. He couldn’t say that the prospect of moving out and leaving him all alone enchanted him. Did he feel bad about the lie? Yes, slightly. Sherlock felt as though he was betraying their friendship. But then again, very slightly since it was for the ex-army doctor’s protection.

 

He looked around, trying to locate John. It didn’t take him long as the other was sitting at the table. John was eating toasts with eggs and tea; his relaxed position indicated that nothing different had happened and he was simply getting ready for work. All the errands had been done. Sherlock hung his coat and scarf on the coat hanger, then opened and closed his hands as he was preparing for the lie. He straightened up and walked into the living room and sat on his armchair. As he did, they both greeted each other casually.

 

‘Hello,’ said John, looking at his friend.

 

‘Good morning,’ replied Sherlock.

 

John couldn’t help frowning; the consulting detective was usually cold, but this was a whole new level. Was something up?

 

‘I’ll go to the morgue tomorrow. I need to examine the properties of a specific agent found on a body. It’s for a case, which holds no importance for you; you cannot help me with this. So don’t expect me early,’ explained Sherlock.

 

Yes, something was definitely up.

 

John swallowed the piece of toast he had been munching, then sat deeper in his chair. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked seriously.

 

‘What? There is nothing wrong with me,’ argued Sherlock. ‘Why?’

 

‘You never explain to me what you do at the morgue and you just did. So tell me, what is wrong?’

 

‘Nothing.’

 

‘You’re lying to my face and it’s plain to see!’

 

‘I said ‘’ _nothing_ ’’, John!’ exclaimed Sherlock, irritated by how good his friend had become at deducing. ‘Why is it so hard to understand?’

 

‘All right,’ John said, giving up with a sigh. ‘I just hope you won’t pull another trick like your fake suicide.’

Sherlock looked at him gravely, thinking it was much worse than his so-called fall. Without a word, he turned around and walked to his bedroom. He had to find his best dinner jacket as he’d never marry twice.

 

‘Just great,’ mumbled John as he watched the man he admired walk away.

 

* * *

The fateful morning had come.

 

Sherlock was checking himself out in his bedroom mirror. He readjusted his cuffs and collar, and straightened his dinner jacket.

 

It was now or never.

 

Never wasn’t even an option seeing all the consequences it would bring.

 

Moriarty had planned well for Sherlock just couldn’t get out of this one – at least, not as easily as before. He’d first need to spend a while married to figure things out and find a good way to bring Moriarty down for good. Sherlock heaved a sigh and plucked up his courage – not that he lacked any –, then walked out of his apartment with one last look at John’s armchair.

 

Who knew if he’d ever see it again?


End file.
